Labour of love

This story has a happy ending.  SPOILER ALERT - we have a child.  A lovely little girl who is - as far as you can ever know - healthy and happy.  And we are delighted.

The process of obtaining said child isn't quite as straightforward.  Over the next few Plogs, I'm going to share with you, dear Ploggers, The Truth About Giving Birth.  Oh, also, I had two hours' sleep last night, so if you're feeling pedantic, feel free to correct grammar errors.  I would in you're position. (See what I did there?  It actually physically hurts a bit to leave that error there.  Ugh.)

At nine days overdue, last Wednesday TheBloke (TM) and I toddled off to the hospital to have the labour induced.  I had been doing everything to get the labour started.  Every old wives' tale you could imagine.  Eating more pineapple than I wanted, drinking pineapple juice, bouncing up and down on a gym ball, going for a long walk, drinking raspberry leaf tea... the other suggestions involved a) sex and b) blowjobs as apparently there are enzymes in ejaculate that get labour started.  I think "b" was definitely suggested by a man.  Oh, also hot curries, but I'm not a fan of spicy food, and think that actually, hot curries are more unpleasant to my palate than option b  (Hello Mum and Dad.  Sorry.)

None of it worked.  So we arrived at the maternity unit at 9 p.m. to be induced.  They hooked me to a monitor to measure the baby's heart rate... and told me to my surprise I was already in labour.  The machine had a handy little function to tell them when I was contracting - and apparently I was contracting at 100% strength every ten minutes or so.  This was something of a surprise, as I couldn't feel it.  Well, I could feel a slight tightness.  But I wouldn't have noticed it unless they pointed it out.

It was round about this point that two midwives fingered me.  One of them thought she felt a polyp.  I don't know what a polyp is, but the second midwife disagreed with her and said I was polyp-free.  Polyp is a funny word and I shall definitely be using it in Hangman the next time I play.  One midwife was called to help out another patient as she was feeling my cervix.  "Hang on," said the midwife.  "I'm elbow-deep in clunge here."

OK, she didn't, but it would have been funny if she did.  In the meantime TheBloke (TM)'s little eyes lit up, as two (admittedly quite attractive female midwives) took it in turns to fondle me, one of them even stroking my leg.

"Look at this," said Hot Midwife 2.  "Her contractions are at 100%!  Do you really not feel that?" she asked me.

"Not really," I said.

"Wow," she said.  "You must just have a really high pain threshhold."

"No she doesn't," said TheBloke (TM), thus in just three words making himself sound like someone who beats his wife.

I felt smug.  Contracting and not even feeling it?  This labour was going to be a piece of piss.

"We won't induce you as you're contracting at the moment - we'll give you 12 hours and see how you get on naturally," said Hot Midwife 1.

On the ward that night, I got a measly five hours' sleep - or as I now call it, "That amazing night when I got a whole five hours' sleep."

Things change.  Stay tuned for Part Two...